


that one time that "need a hand" actually worked (or: Liam Payne's attempt at dirty-talk)

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn breaks both his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that one time that "need a hand" actually worked (or: Liam Payne's attempt at dirty-talk)

**Author's Note:**

> First ever fanfic written for One Direction [October 8th, 2012]

Liam only comes up to check on Zayn, the four of them skeptical about the boy insisting on sleeping alone after the accident, but not even Liams attempt at logic had been able to persuade his friend. He insisted that he's tired, that he'll be fine, that he'll call if he needs anything, and Liam saw the stress lines on his face that tell him Zayn is in pain and didn't mention that having both of his arms broken makes picking up a phone kind of difficult.

 

But he worries, because Liam is a worrier, and while he knows he's not the only one it seems that Louis and Harry are content to let it go, arguing over a movie they won't end up watching because ten minutes in someone will find some reason to start a tickle fight, and Niall is too busy trying to decide whether he wants pizza or fries (and will end up ordering both, as usual) to really seem to spare their missing band member a second thought.

 

And it's not like this is the first night since Zayn broke his arms, but it's the first night he's sleeping alone, and Liam finds himself, well,  _sulking_. He'd say that he just likes keeping an eye out for everyone, that he feels much better when he knows his friends are okay, but he misses having Zayns eyes on him, even if it's too pathetic to admit out loud.

 

So when Harry and Louis are rolling around on the floor and Niall is happily distracted by food and football, Liam mumbles something about going to check on Zayn and leaves the room before anyone can process what he said. He doesn't think they'll keep him from going, but they might give him flack about it, and it's much much worse when he's too tired to retaliate and ends up flushing so dark that Louis wants to tug down his shirt to see if it reaches all the way down to his collarbones.

 

It's not like his crush on Zayn is a secret, sometimes Liam suspects that even Zayn knows, it's just that nothing's ever been  _done_  about it. He's thought about it – done more than just thinking about it on those nights that he's been lucky enough to get a single bedroom – but there've always been reasons. Danielle. Perrie. The need for a night out. The early start next morning. The fact that he's not necessarily too scared but mostly too awkward to start a conversation about _this_  between them. Zayn is... he matters. Liam wants to do right by him, as corny as it sounds, so while he doesn't currently have a plan to move their relationship forward, he has a plan to make plans. Ish.

 

His not-very-evolved plan is shot to all Hell when he opens the hotel door to find Zayn humping a pillow.

 

Liam is torn between backing out, doubling over in laughter and maybe also potentially creaming his shorts a little because this should not be hot but it  _is_.

 

The way Zayn is moving his hips, tiny little shifts and rolls, face red and screwed in concentration; he's  _beautiful_. And Liam is so so painfully hard and he thinks that maybe so much blood rushed south that he can't be held accountable for the words that come out, for the way his body decides to shut the door and move towards the bed when he should be courteous and give his friend some privacy. But he's not leaving, his eyes still stuck on the way Zayn grinds into the pillow, the little grunts that sound both frustrated and turned-on, and Liam is so utterly turned on that he can't help himself.

 

“You look like you need a hand.” He offers, his own suddenly feeling too big for his body, too clumsy, and Zayn flails comically and falls on his ass, cast nearly hitting Liam in the face when his instinct is to steady him.

 

“Li, what the  _fuck_ ” Zayn starts, anger bubbling up in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, but Liam is sort of stuck on the way his jeans are half undone and his boxers are wet with pre-come. He might do something as totally corny as lick his lips, he isn't even aware of anything but Zayn. Zayn all pretty and flushed and glaring at him with those dark eyes.

 

“Maybe two” He says, and Zayn scoffs, looking helpless as he tries to do something about his situation, two plastered arms making it difficult to even do up his jeans and Liam is  _so_  okay with that.

 

“Okay, funny, I get it. Can you just-” He casts a helpless look at Liam, pointedly gazes at the door, and Liam wonders what would happen if he took the cue and left. Wonders if Zayn would be so embarrassed that he'd give up on wanking, but no,  _look_  at him. He's so hard, there's no way he's not going to try and find some way to relieve himself.

 

“You're so desperate, aren't you” His voice sounds almost bewildered, feet carrying him close enough to the bed so he can sit down, outer thigh touching Zayns, his hand pressed to the bed on the other side of Zayns hips so he can't do something as stupid as try to move away. “Look at you” There's definite amazement in his tone, want too, pure naked want that must be obvious enough for Zayn to hear, because he stills.

 

Not fully, Liam notices. He's sure the movements are unconscious, but Zayn is still shifting, and he's still hard. He's talking to Liam and he's still  _hard_ , and Liam finds himself brushing fingers over the soft skin on Zayns stomach, one fingertip almost wiggling underneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. “You're so hard.”

 

“Li” Zayn starts again, pleading this time, half embarrassment and half something more, longing if Liam is reading it right. “Quit jerking me around, yeah?”

 

“Not the kind of jerking I was thinking of” Liam deadpans, and it's so corny that he winces, but one look at Zayns face tells him that he doesn't care, dark eyes bright in his face, lip bruised from biting down onto it.

 

There's a third “Li” from Zayn, but he sounds hesitant, like he's more or less protesting because it's the normal thing to do, like he's fumbling for some new ground rules, and Liam is pretty sure that they are due for a freak-out sometime soon, but he doesn't have time to think about any of that right now. Not when Zayn is so utterly wrecked already, so hard for it that he resorted to humping a pillow to get himself of, and not when he's so close to being embarrassed that it makes Liams protective instinct kick in. Zayn is too... he's too  _Zayn_  to feel like that, and that doesn't even make sense, but Liam is happy to blame the lack of blood in his brain for any mushy thoughts.

 

“Let me help” Liam says, and Zayn lets out a breath that sounds too loud in the quiet of the room, and then positively _melts_  into the bed, all resistance gone until he's soft and pliant and  _willing_  and Liam has to have him right now. “Let me” He says again, voice rough, and it's a plea even if it sounds like a demand, and Zayn understands because their mouths meet somewhere in the middle of Liam leaning down and Zayn surging  _up_  and he breathes a “yes” into Liams mouth before Liam licks at his teeth and makes him go quiet.

 

The quiet only lasts so long, because even if Liam could spend hours just making out with Zayn, learning his mouth, finding just the right way for their tongues to tangle, Zayn is whimpering into his mouth within minutes, little litanies of  _pleasepleaseplease_  that he wants to record. It's easily the best sound he's ever heard, though he savors the helpless and  _grateful_  groan when his fingers curl around him, boxers still in the way – making Zayn grunt something in that annoyed slash adorable way. Liam laughs and it earns him a scoff, makes him lean in to nibble at Zayns lips again until Zayn stops pouting and kisses back, and somewhere in the middle of that kiss he shoves down his boxers enough to wrap his hand around him.

 

The way Zayn says his name, like a chant, a prayer, has Liam grinning down at him almost proudly, has him so close to saying “I love you” that he stills for a moment. Zayn takes it as another attempt at teasing him and tries to shove him, but Liam easily avoids him, presses another kiss to his lips in apology, Zayn apparently so easy to mollify, because he relaxes again, even if there's a tiny huff escaping his lips.

 

Liam can't stop looking at him, at the way his nose scrunches and his hair sticks to his forehead as he moves his hand up, twisting his wrist at the tip before sliding back down, easier now that his thumb is spreading pre-come down his shaft. Zayn is the beautiful enigma he always is, tense and relaxed all at once, mysterious and all too easy to read in a way that only Liam knows. Liam savors it, gets off on it, on knowing Zayn better than anyone, and he saves away all the little new things he's learning. Like the way Zayn shifts to meet his thrusts, the way he groans and grunts and bites his lip in a way that Liam will never be able to separate from this moment, and he's so fucked the next time Zayn has to think about an answer in an interview. He's gonna be sat there, watching him bite his lip, thinking of fucking him into the mattress like he's wanting to right now, like he might be doing if Zayn wasn't bruised all over and in pain.

 

“Liam” Zayn pants, unashamedly begging now, and Liam grins, bends down to catch a nipple in-between his teeth, briefly considers tracing his tattoos with his tongue.

 

“Want something, Malik?” He teases, lips against his skin making his words come out as a mumble, and he swears he can  _feel_  the way Zayn groans.

 

“You” Zayn grits out, and Liam was wrong,  _this_  is the best thing he's ever heard, and he feels like a schoolboy with a crush, all sappy smiles and love-notes in his diary, but he doesn't budge.

 

“Yeah?” He shifts closer, ghosts his lips over Zayns mouth, pulls back when the other leans up, his wrist doing another flick that causes a full-body shudder. “Tell me. Tell me what you want, Zayn.”

 

Zayn groans helplessly, shifts like he wants to curl the sheets in-between his fingers and Liam feels kind of bad for him, because Zayn is a cuddle monster once he becomes comfortable and it must be hell not being able to touch. He leans his cheek to Zayns chest to offer him some comfort, though skin soon distracts him to the point where he's leaving open-mouthed kisses down his stomach.

 

“Fuck, Li, your  _mouth_ ” Zayn mutters, and Liam's pretty sure that's not an answer, that he's just praising the body part that is setting his nerves on fire, but he takes it as his cue nonetheless, letting his tongue trail down a path so Zayn will be fully aware of what he's going to do. He feels him sucking in a shuddery breath in anticipation, smirks as he looks up before closing his eyes as he sinks his mouth down around him.

 

Liam's not exactly a pro at this, but he knows what he likes and he knows that Zayn is so far gone that he's just happy with anything right now, so he tries to stick to the basics, alternating long licks with strong suction, fingers still around the base to keep him from going down too far, because he doubts gagging on his dick is much of a turn-on right now. He mouths the head before going down, inch by slow inch, letting his tongue curl around him when his cheeks get a little sore. It might not be the best blowjob in the world but he's enthusiastic, and Zayn is chanting his name and throwing his head back and doing that thing again where he's both taut and melting, shifting up and away and losing himself to pleasure in a way that Liam is all too aware could be addictive.

 

His jaw aches and his eyes water when he goes down when Zayn goes up, but it's still the hottest thing ever, and soon Zayns chanting sounds broken, breaths hitch before he tries to stop himself from thrusting up, a physical warning now that he can't bury his hands in Liams hair and tug him up. “Li” His voice cracks, and Liam knows that if he looked up right now he'd see him licking his lips, which makes him hum, which makes Zayn tremble underneath him. “Li I'm so close” He manages, and Liam looks then, opens dark eyes to see Zayns similarly darkened ones, his mouth moving excruciatingly slow as he goes back down, not breaking eye-contact. Zayn scrunches up his face for a moment, confused as to why he doesn't seem to understand his warning, but then it hits him and his mouth goes slack, the boy gaping at him for a moment as Liam sucks on his way up, then takes him as deep as he can go without messing with his gag-reflex. The way Zayns eyes flutter shut is pure pornography, and Liam is sure that the sounds he emits as he comes are award-winning. Maybe not the Brits, or the Teen Choice, but those are definitely some bestseller-list-worthy groans that he's hearing.

 

He swallows because it seems the proper thing to do, and then wishes that he hadn't, fingers swift as they reach towards the glass Zayn's had put on his bedside table, stale water gulped down until the taste is gone. He's probably not exactly flattering or suave right now, face red from trying not to cough, erection tenting his pants, but Zayn is wearing that smirk that always makes Liam flush and he finds himself, for once, utterly uncaring about the so-called trivial things in life.

 

After all, he didn't even  _need_  a plan to seduce Zayn.


End file.
